


Breaking Down

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad hates being taken care of. Hank convinces him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Brad missed three days of Rangers practice due to the flu, and I took and ran with that.

Brad's eyelids flutter, his limbs shake, his fingers tremble as he curls them around the plush duvet cover, and yanks them up to his chin. The movement alone makes him woozy, and he swears all the blood in his body drains from him. His forehead creases as the frustration he's felt for the past two days threatens to take over. 

Honestly, out of all the things to occur before the season started, he got the fucking flu? Like, seriously, what did he ever do to his immune system to deserve this? For the most part, he took great care of himself. And, yet, two days ago, he had tried to get out of bed, and he felt like a truck had run over him.

Okay, maybe that was only partially true. He had managed to get about as far as the end of his bed, before the room started spinning. He staggered as the floor shifted, and he barely registered when his legs finally gave out on him and he collapsed on the sheets. He basically hadn't moved from his bed since.

Brad huffed loudly as he shifted his body beneath the covers. He vaguely registers a muffled groan coming from the figure laying next to him. He rolls onto his back, and huffs loudly as Hank shifts his body closer, draping an arm across him. 

He was quite sure if he was healthy Hank's arm wouldn't feel as heavy as it did. As it was, though, trying to move Hank's arm even a smidge made it feel like Brad was trying to use untrained muscles. Normally, Brad had no objections to sharing an intimate moment like this with Hank, it was just that he was burning up tucked next to Hank's body beneath the duvet. He tried to wriggle a little bit out of Hank's reach, but his movement caused Hank to stir, and snuggle closer. 

"Bradley," Hank mock chastised, "save your strength." His tone was deep, smooth, slightly groggy, but it was still sexy as hell. Hank's voice moved over him like liquid honey trailing down his limbs. His breath tickling Brad's cheek like a caress. 

"I thought I told you not to come over," Brad murmured. 

Hank chuckled, his nose nuzzling the side of Brad's neck. Brad could feel the stubble from Hank's chin against his skin, and he shivers as Hank presses a soft, chaste kiss on his shoulder. "I missed you," he whispers. 

Brad huffs, and as Hank's eyes slowly open, his breath catches in the hollow of his throat, and he feels the room spin. _It's just because you're ill, it's just because you're ill_ , his mind repeats over and over again. "I didn't want you to see me like this," he says feebly. 

"Don't be silly, Brad," Hank said, his lips nuzzling the skin between his jaw and ear. 

"I look and feel like shit," Brad said through gritted teeth as he finally managed to extricate himself from Hank's grip. "And, Jesus fuck, Hank, you're giving off heat like a furnace. I'm burning up now."

He got to his feet, doing his best to disguise the woozy feeling that passed through his system. He looked down at Hank, watching as Hank got up from the bed with a grace Brad was sure was reserved only for him. 

Hank moved around Brad's bed, and cupped his face in his hands. A small smile graced his lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Brad's forehead. "I don't care. You still look perfect." He rests his chin on Brad's hair, and mutters, "And you're burning up because you have a fever." 

Brad digs his nails into Hank's arms, and shoves him away slightly. "Still, you didn't have to come. I'm perfectly fine. I can take care of myself."

He doesn't even realize the moment when his legs give out on him, until he feels Hank's strong arms curling around him, holding him steady. Brad can hear the laughter in Hank's voice, as he whispers against his hair, "You were saying?"

Brad thinks he manages to say "Shut up" before his vision goes black.

-»«-

He feels slightly calloused hands run over his bare skin. There is a dampness hanging in the air, and the low hum of Hank's voice as it caresses his flesh.

"I'm okay … I can take … of myself …" Brad barely recognizes the voice as his own, lost as he was in his delirium. 

"Shh, Bradley, just let me take care of you," Hank whispers against his ear, the bare skin of his chest pressing against his back. 

"Fine … I'm fine …"

Brad feels as a spray of lukewarm water hits him. He struggles to stand, his limbs shaking with the exertion at his attempts. The water leaves haphazard streaks across his bronzed skin, as Hank's strong hands curl around his wrists. 

"You're so stubborn sometimes. Don't move so much. It won't kill you to admit you need my help." 

Brad would be loathe to admit Hank was probably right. Instead, he sagged against Hank's chest, and moaned softly as Hank's hands slid over his shoulders, and down his back. 

Brad was soft, and as pliable as soft clay in Hank's hands, as Hank washed his hair, and worked a soft cloth over every inch of his body. Hank held and supported him as Brad watched the suds swirl down the drain. He sagged against Hank, letting the water wash away the remnants of two days of being stuck alone in bed. 

As Hank towelled them both off, Brad let his lips curl into a smile. "Thank you."

Hank just stares at him, the bright lights of Brad's bathroom making his eyes appear brighter. More alive. "It was nothing."

Brad tries to protest again when Hank loosens the towel on his waist, letting it drop to the floor, his hands sliding down Brad's sides. Brad interlaces their fingers, but doesn't pull Hank's hands away from his hips. 

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he says, voice slightly slurred, and he laughs like this was the funniest joke he had ever heard. 

Hank's lip twitches as he tugs a shirt down over Brad's head. "Is it working?" he jokes.

"I dunno," Brad mumbles. "Wait … what am I saying yes to?"

Hank pushes slightly on Brad's shoulders, until Brad's seated on the edge of his bed. He manages to get Brad's feet into the flannel pajama pants, before he slides them up Brad's legs. "How you're so happy I came over to help you."

"Oh, right," Brad agreed. "But how does that require a 'yes' response from me?"

"Oh, Bradley, you're so lucky you're not feeling well," Hank mumbles to himself, as he helps Brad stand. 

Eventually, they end up sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Hank in a soft cotton button down shirt, and jeans. Brad dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton henley. Hank's hair is damp, a slight wave to the strands. 

Hank pushes a bowl of soup towards Brad. Brad scowls at the contents of the bowl, ignoring the rumbling of his stomach.

Hank looks on amused, as Brad finally picks up the spoon. "Come on, Brad. I'll bet you haven't eaten anything in days."

"Couldn't keep anything down," Brad grumbled. 

"I figured as much," Hank says, amused. 

"I'm only eating because I'm still too weak," Brad mumbled, as he continued to sip at the soup.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bradley." 

"You're lucky you're pretty," Brad says mildly, as he finishes off the soup.

Hank just laughs, as he picks up the newspaper, flipping the pages slowly.


End file.
